


Practical Magic

by IneffablePenguin



Series: Love, and Other Ineffable Things [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Wings, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Proposal Sex, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Smut, Super soft smut, Wings, romantic sex, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-23 21:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffablePenguin/pseuds/IneffablePenguin
Summary: Wherein Aziraphale and his new demon husband/(fiancee?) have some madly-in-love sex.[Includes a NSFW illustration]{Part 7 of the 'Love, and Other Ineffable Things' series}





	Practical Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This scene is a direct follow up to [Keeping Up Appearances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19628662), You may want to read that one first if you haven’t yet! This is more like Chapter 2 to that, but the ratings were so different that I posted as separate stories.  
>    
> 

* * *

* * *

Aziraphale unlocked the door to the bookshop and let them back inside, unwinding his scarf from his neck as he did. It was very late and very dark, and the February evening was cold enough to send plumes of mist into the air whenever they exhaled. He was still holding Crowley’s hand, and that hand was clutching back just as tightly- they hadn’t let go of each other once from the moment they got out of the Bentley before dinner, and didn’t feel inclined to start now. 

It had been a wonderful night. Giddy from the unexpected exchange in the parking lot, they’d hardly been able to take their eyes off each other. Dinner had been delicious and perfect, the drinks had been excellent, and the movie had been...entertaining, probably. 

Truth be told, he didn’t remember much of the movie. He wasn’t sure either of them had paid too much attention to the flickering screen. He himself had spent most of the time focusing on the feel of Crowley’s hand resting atop his knee with his own hand covering it, the way the new rings brushed against their fingers whenever they shifted their grip. The way Crowley had kissed his hand in full view of everyone in the room, making him blush furiously. 

Seeing the gold ring that he’d worn for most of his life on Crowley’s finger was both so strange and so indescribably _right_ that it made his heart feel like it was swelling inside his chest. He knew that a silly human convention like this shouldn’t have meant so much to him. It’s not as if it changed anything about how committed he was; that die had been cast long ago. He had been all in from the moment he returned Crowley’s first kiss on that fateful night after the Ritz six months ago- well, and probably hundreds of years earlier, if he was being honest with himself. But something inside him had cracked wide open on that night, and he never wanted to put it back. So. Perhaps this small thing shouldn’t have made his heart leap, not in the face of all that. But it did. It made his heart absolutely soar, and he didn’t give one thin sliver of a damn about _should_ anymore. He loved feeling this way, he loved Crowley, and they belonged to each other, now and forever. 

He’d spent the rest of the movie casting sidelong glances at him, admiring how devastatingly handsome he looked in the dark blue suit that he’d most certainly only worn to impress him. Crowley had noticed him watching, too, if the half smile and faint pink colour in his cheeks was any indication. From the way his thumb had kept slowly stroking the side of Aziraphale’s leg, the angel could tell he had been similarly distracted. 

He’d grown steadily more impatient to be alone with his demon as the night went on. 

He shut the front door and locked it tight. He drew the window blinds. He removed his overcoat and carefully hung it on the nearby coat rack. Then he turned on his heel and gave Crowley a small push, causing him to stumble back towards the wall. “What the-” was all he got out before Aziraphale shoved him into the nearest bookshelf and kissed him, pressing himself up against his front and running both hands up his back under the suit jacket.

“Hush darling. I’ve been dying to do this all evening,” he said breathlessly against his mouth. He kissed him again, insistently, pouring all his pent-up joy and excitement into it. There was a heartbeat of startled silence, then Crowley’s arms were around his neck and he was kissing him back with unrestrained enthusiasm. One hand slid through his hair to cradle the back of his head, and the demon’s mouth was sweet and full of passionate longing in the way it moved against his. Crowley could be so very eloquent without saying anything at all.

It made Aziraphale’s knees weak every single time. 

They stayed locked together like that for several long minutes, just enjoying the privacy of home and occupying that hazy in-between world of new lovers. Aziraphale rubbed slow patterns into Crowley’s upper back as he kissed him, soaking in the fever-heat of his body through the dress shirt and inhaling his familiar musky scent. It chased away the lingering chill of the winter air and filled him with a growing warmth of his own. The demon only wrapped his arms tighter around him and held on as if he was the only thing keeping him anchored to earth.

Crowley moved his hands to gently frame his face, and pulled back a couple inches from the kiss to look at him. His eyes were soft, and his mouth curved in a half-smile as he leaned in to touch foreheads with a contented sigh. “I love you,” he said quietly.

A different kind of warmth flooded through Aziraphale from head to toe, like sunlight spilling into his heart. He knew it was still difficult for his demon to say those words sometimes, and he treasured each and every time he heard it. He felt happiness bloom in his chest until it became positively fierce, demanding an outlet. His hands tightened against Crowley’s back. He wanted this suit off. He wanted to feel that heat pressing against his bare skin, to wrap himself up in it and forget the rest of the world existed.

He rose slightly up on his toes and kissed him, tenderly. He let one hand trail down until it rested on Crowley’s waist. He deepened his kiss, and shifted a bit to reach between them and cup his hand.

Crowley’s breath hitched, golden eyes flying open and hands tensing on his face. Aziraphale suppressed a smile. He never tired of that reaction. No matter how often he made the first move, Crowley always managed to be startled. It was really rather adorable. 

Holding eye contact, flushing at his own boldness, he slowly unbuttoned Crowley’s trousers and tugged at the zipper. He slid his hand down through the opened fly, and his fingers moved just a little. Crowley exhaled in a slow hiss, eyes half-shut, and a moment later he was abruptly, achingly hard under his palm. Aziraphale’s heart leapt into high gear, pounding in his throat, and his entire awareness narrowed sharply to the column of rigid heat beneath his hand. He traced gentle circles with his fingertips, and Crowley groaned and let his head lean down to rest against his shoulder. “Angel,” he breathed _._ He raised his head and kissed him one more time, then reached down and took his hand, entwining their fingers together. Without a word he led him across the darkened shop, up the spiral stairs to the tiny bedroom at the back of the landing. 

Crowley shut the door firmly behind them and switched on the bedside lamp, flooding the little room with soft yellow light. He raised their linked hands to his mouth and kissed each of Aziraphale’s knuckles one by one. He reached out with careful fingers and undid the bow tie at his throat, letting it hang loose around his neck, then began unbuttoning the velvet waistcoat. “What can I do for you?” he murmured. “Just tell me what you want.” He kissed him, sliding his tongue briefly between his lips to taste his mouth. “Anything at all.”

Aziraphale let out a soft noise and closed his eyes, feeling his heart pound against the inside of his chest. He loved the feeling of Crowley undressing him; the simple intimacy of it still took his breath away. He desperately wanted more of those hands on him; he ached for it. “Just...touch me, please,” he whispered. 

Crowley immediately obliged; he wound an arm around his waist and pulled him close, kissing his throat with unabashed hunger. He caressed his cheek and trailed kisses down his neck, pausing to stroke the same places with his tongue and fingers. He pressed his lips to his rushing pulse, right under his jaw, and his hand drew a long line from his chest down to between his legs, squeezing gently at his growing erection before stroking back up again. Aziraphale gasped as his knees went weak, and might have fallen if not for the arm wrapped around him. Crowley laughed quietly in his ear and tightened his grip to hold him upright. He ran his other hand down him to grasp again, this time lingering for a long moment before letting go. Each touch lit up Aziraphale’s entire body and sent fierce tingles running down his spine. He felt his love’s own erection digging into his hip as he clutched him, and he suddenly wanted him so badly he could barely think. His hands found the waist of Crowley’s unzipped trousers and eased them down off his hips. The demon’s sex was straining in sharp relief against the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, barely contained and absolutely lovely. 

This time, when he grabbed, he was not quite as gentle.

Crowley let out a gasp and hunched forward. Aziraphale kept his grip and kissed him, feeling desire move slow and hot through his blood. It was like being drunk, only better. Crowley sighed into his mouth and wrapped his other arm around his shoulders. He hauled him backwards towards the bed, tripping and nearly toppling them both as the trousers around his ankles got in the way. He sat down on the mattress with a thump and quickly shrugged out of his navy blue jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He started tearing at the buttons on the angel’s shirt, fumbling in his haste; Aziraphale did his best to help, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough for either of them. There were just so many buttons, everywhere, he realised with dismay. He grasped Crowley by the collar of his dress shirt, and with a quick mental _yank_ and ripple of power every single button on both of their clothes came undone. “Better,” he said firmly, and threw himself at him.

He knocked Crowley backwards onto the bed, and it suddenly became a mad scramble to see who could remove the most the quickest. Fever-warm hands were on him again, obliterating thought, sliding under his opened waistcoat to stroke his bare skin, to catch at his shirt, to pull down his trousers and caress his throbbing groin. He groaned in sheer ecstasy and frantically dragged fistfuls of Crowley’s undershirt up and over his head, flinging it away across the room. 

He could have just miracled the clothing off entirely, of course. But if he’d learned anything in six thousand years, it was that some things were better when they took time. 

Finally, finally the last interfering article was stripped off and tossed to the floor. They were both still wearing their socks, but they were too impatient to bother with insignificant details- they twined together on the soft duvet with a shock of naked skin against skin and a gasp of mutual relief. Aziraphale climbed eagerly on top of Crowley and straddled him, holding his face tight in his hands while kissing him as if he might disappear. He shifted his hips slowly, wickedly atop him as he did so, thrilling at Crowley’s choked exhaleand the way those warm hands reached up and clasped at his back, fingers digging into him. 

He ground his hips against him again, feeling the hot press of hardness between them and the exquisite burst of pleasure it brought. He moaned, unable to help himself, and Crowley surged up and wrapped his arms around him in a strangling embrace, face buried in his shoulder. “My gorgeous angel,” he groaned. “Mine, mine, _mine_.” He brushed his lips across Aziraphale’s chest and bit him softly, and ran his tongue over his nipple. “ _Mine_.” He growled and bit him again on the collarbone, the neck, the shoulder. It was driving Aziraphale mad. He cradled Crowley’s head in his arms and rested his cheek against his hair, then ground down on him again. And again, harder, and again, until finally Crowley seized him around the waist with a helpless groan and bore him over and down into the bedcovers. 

Early on they had discovered there were different flavors to human lovemaking. There was the quick, hard attack of mutual need, an outlet for release. There were times of near playfulness, where sarcasm and humor ran close to the surface. There were the slow, summer-day-languid sessions most common in the morning, when they were both still heavy with sleep. And dozens of variations in between, all wonderful in their own way. 

This time was like a cup of hot, brandy-laced cocoa on an empty stomach, at the end of a long, cold day.

Crowley made love to him slowly at first, rocking against his body with aching tenderness. He pinned one wrist to the bed above his head and kissed him, sighing as he moved his hips in unhurried strokes. He ran his other hand down Aziraphale’s thigh and reached under him to clutch his flank as he pushed slightly deeper, making them both gasp. All the while he was gazing down into the angel’s eyes as if it was the last thing he would ever see, and Aziraphale looked back at him in equal wonder, without fear or hesitation. He reached up and tangled his free hand in the back of Crowley’s hair, letting their foreheads rest together as they moved. Their breathing grew louder and more ragged as they reveled in the feel of each other, as they gave and took in equal measure; the wooden bedframe creaked as the pace of their loving increased and grew more passionate, more urgent. Their skin was damp with mingled sweat and the heat of Crowley’s body enveloped him inside and out. Aziraphale closed his eyes and completely surrendered to him. There was magic in this, headier and more vibrant than any he had ever wielded, a pleasure both physical and emotional, so intense that it almost hurt. After six thousand years of rigidly keeping his distance the sheer power of human touch was still an absolute revelation. 

A revelation, yet somehow not a strange one.  Under the sparkling newness of all this ran a vein of marrow-deep familiarity. This was just the latest extension of a connection that had already deepened to something indescribable over the millennia. There was no human word that truly encompassed what they meant to each other; no linguist had ever had the lifespan required to even try.

If this was a sin, then it was a lovely one. For this beautiful madness, he would defy heaven itself. 

He felt a warm hand cup his cheek. “Look at me, Angel,” Crowley panted, and Aziraphale gazed up at him to find those incredible golden eyes locked on his face. There were spots of hectic colour high in his cheeks, and his russet hair was disheveled and falling over his forehead.

After a moment Crowley flashed a smile down at him, easier and brighter than anything he ever used to allow. Between one breath and the next the gold in his irises expanded to cover the entire orb, and his eyes slid briefly shut as something in his face relaxed. There was a silent twist in the air, and enormous, raven-black wings burst from his shoulder blades, unfurling above them to stretch across the entire length of the tiny room. They pressed against the walls and blocked out the single lamp, casting them in alternating shadows and light as the feathers shifted. The sight stole what little breath Aziraphale had left. It was lovely, more lovely than anything he had ever seen in Heaven. It sparked a flame of reckless joy in his chest, exactly as it always did, and he could only stare up at him in awe. “ _There_ you are, love,” he whispered.

Aziraphale had never told him so, but this was his favourite thing about their intimate time together: when they were alone like this, in the privacy of each other with no one else to see, Crowley always let down the barriers completely. There was none of his careful reserve, no attempt to hide his feelings; all the love and vulnerability blazed out of him on his open face like a lantern. Crowley had sex with his entire true self on display, and it was raw and uninhibited and joyful to see. 

Crowley kissed his throat and adjusted himself atop him, sliding an arm under his neck and around his shoulders to hold him tight. He kept his other hand cupped against his cheek. Muscles across his back shifted as the wings tucked in close, enfolding them both under a private black canopy and brushing them with feathered softness. Watching his face intently now, gold eyes just a glint in the dark, he began to move in a new, slightly faster rhythm, pushing his hips very steadily and deliberately in a way that sent indescribable pleasure rippling through Aziraphale’s entire body. “Oh my God,” he gasped out, then nearly choked on the blasphemy. Crowley huffed a breathless laugh and kissed his neck, biting gently exactly the way he liked. “That’s it, Angel,” he breathed against him. He pushed slightly harder, and Aziraphale saw stars. “Just like that, hm?” He ran his tongue from the base of his collarbone up to his jaw, and bit again. “ _Yes_ ,” Aziraphale cried out, writhing beneath him. “Please, yes. God, I love you.” Frantic, he wrapped both arms around Crowley to grasp the places where the wings met his back; they were covered in soft ebony down and quivered slightly at his touch. He ran his hand up one wing, trailing fingers through the silky feathers, and Crowley gasped and stared down at him with glazed eyes.

He could barely stand it. He felt like he was rushing headlong towards a cliff, and he didn’t want to stop. 

“Angel, I- mmh.” Crowley suddenly grunted and slowed. He was taking shallow, ragged breaths with an expression of deep concentration, clearly fighting for self-control. It was...exhilarating. Aziraphale loved seeing him struggle against the verge. He wanted to hear the noises he would make when he went over it. He wanted to make him give in. He tilted his chin up and kissed Crowley on the jaw, then seized him by the hips and pulled him hungrily toward him. “Go on, my love,” Aziraphale urged breathlessly in his ear. “Go on. Just let go.” 

With a final thrust and deep, ecstatic groan Crowley lost the fight, hunching up and clutching at his angel’s shoulders, bracing himself against the wooden headboard with one hand as the black wings trembled and flung out for balance. There was a crash as something in the room toppled, but it seemed very distant and far away. The overwhelming sensations tipped Aziraphale over the edge, and he clenched his eyes shut and clung tight, shuddering as his own gloriously overpowering release tore through his entire body a heartbeat later. 

* * *

They just held each other like that for a hazy, timeless interval as their mutual shudders subsided. Whispering nothings back and forth, stroking each other’s faces. Neither of them was in any hurry to return to the world. 

They finally eased reluctantly apart; Crowley scooted down just a bit to curl against Aziraphale with an enormous sigh. The two of them lay naked together in the tangled sheets, chests still heaving as their galloping heart rates slowly decreased to a steady beat again. 

A quick finger snap disposed of the more impractical elements of the entire thing, for comfort’s sake. 

Crowley reached out and took Aziraphale’s left hand, idly tracing the contours of the serpent-shaped ring with the tip of his thumb. “I love you,” he murmured against him. “Just wanted you to know.”

Aziraphale felt that flush of giddiness again, overlaying the deep contentment seeping through him. He kissed the mussed hair and pulled Crowley a little closer. “I do know,” he replied. “And I love you more.” 

Crowley only threaded their fingers together in response, holding tightly. His shoulders flexed once, an odd shrugging motion, and the enormous wings folded in against his back, swiftly shrinking away to vanish into invisibility once again. 

Aziraphale stared up at the ceiling with a pang of disappointment, running his fingers in circles over the smooth skin where the wings had just been.

“That was a very nice suit,” he commented at length.

Crowley looked up at him, and his face broke into a positively wicked grin. “You liked it?”

”Mm hmm.”

“Well, I thought you were past due for a little temptation. Did it work?” 

Aziraphale blinked around at the wreckage of the bed; the wisps of feather down scattered over them, over the crumpled clothing on the floor, over everything. The overturned desk against the far wall, which he hadn’t even noticed until now. So _that_ was the noise they’d heard.

He looked back down at him and shrugged. “Not your best. Really a bit of a dud.”

“Damn.” Crowley reached up and placed a hand under Aziraphale’s chin, kissing him slowly. He smiled at him and brushed his bottom lip with his thumb, once. His eyes were playful, the sharp lines of his face relaxed in the way that had become so familiar lately. “I’ll have to think of something better next time.” 

“Good. I can’t have you getting complacent.” 

“Hrngh.” Crowley snorted, then glanced up at him slyly. “That was a nice trick with the buttons. I’ll have to remember that one.”

“Thank you,” he said smugly.

“Loads better than your other magic tricks.” 

“Oh, very funny.” He didn’t bother keeping the smile out of his voice. “Keep it up, and I’ll-”

“What, exactly?” Crowley pushed himself up towards him until their noses touched. He raised an eyebrow and grinned lazily at him, taunting. “Hm? You’ve already done your worst, angel.”

Aziraphale just looked at him, remembering the fierce desire of a few minutes earlier, feeling it stir again. He felt his mouth slowly curving into a smirk of his own. He lifted his head and placed a light kiss on his husband’s lips. “Darling,” he said softly. “I promise you, you _haven’t_ seen my worst.” With a swift surge of effort he heaved them over on the bed, rolling on top and pinning Crowley beneath him. He stared down at him, and felt an unholy degree of mirth well up in his chest at the look of utter shock on the demon’s face.

His hands slowly tightened on Crowley’s wrists. He leaned close to his ear and spoke very, very quietly.

“Would you like to?”

As it turned out, he _would_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Illustration by @selenevolturo (Instagram)
> 
> Want more Explicit Ineffable Husbands stories? I’ve started a PWP companion account [firenzia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenzia/pseuds/firenzia), so check it out if you’re interested. They will be part of this same series, I’m just avoiding ambushing people with the more graphic stuff. :)


End file.
